


Attack of the 50 Foot Sentinel

by SummerdaySands (IvyMcAllister)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Humor, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyMcAllister/pseuds/SummerdaySands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair watch a sci-fi movie.  Blair geeks out.  Jim grunts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attack of the 50 Foot Sentinel

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine. Pet Fly's. No money.

**Attack of the 50 Foot Sentinel**

 

"God, Jim, that is such crap!"

Jim closed his eyes and tried to remember why he'd asked Sandburg to come over in the first place.

He'd rented a movie. Typical D-grade, low budget sci fi--aliens with funky foreheads, extra limbs and dubious genders; epic space battles, cheesy fistfights, Dixie Cup spaceships and three-breasted chicks in spandex spacesuits. Jim had wanted nothing better than to flop on the couch with a beer, shut off his brain and veg out in front of the tube for a couple hours.

He knew Sandburg's place wasn't the greatest, and the kid had really been growing on him, so he'd invited Blair over to watch the movie and share a pizza and a few beers.

Within the first ten minutes, Jim was grinding his teeth in frustrated annoyance.

"Seriously, Jim, that's just ridiculous! You wouldn't hear an explosion in space, man! It's a vacuum!" Blair took a swig from the beer bottle he was also using to gesture with. He waved the beer at the TV derisively. "And there's no fire in space, either--there's no oxygen! And why,"--he was really on a roll now--"oh, why do they insist on having the ships bank on the turns? You don't need to bank a turn in space, for god's sake! There's no up! There's no down! So why bank?" He collapsed back against the couch cushions and shook his head sadly. "This is a terrible movie, Jim. Didn't they hire any competent researchers to handle the tech stuff? Heck, a high school kid could do it. The physics isn't that difficult."

Jim sighed. He just wanted to watch the movie, preferably without Blair's running commentary. It was starting to impinge on his ability to suspend his disbelief. 

Jim glowered as he nursed his beer. Blair obviously thought that Jim was a big, dumb cop. He thought it was necessary to point out every sci-fi cliché, overused plot device, inconsistency and "plothole", like Jim was an idiot incapable of appreciating the finer points of geekhood. This was all well and good, but the fact was, Jim didn't need Blair to tell him any of that stuff. 

He knew.

And he was trying *really* hard to enjoy the movie anyway.

"And another thing!" Blair chirped. "Why the hell do they always manage to speak the same language we do? It's ridiculous! And they're all humanoid, which is just a joke, man. Given the infinite possibilities, the likelihood of intelligent extraterrestrial life being both humanlike in appearance and speaking our language--even with the funny accent--is nil. Nada. Zip. Zil. . ." 

"For god's sake, Sandburg! Will you lighten up, already? What is it they say on MST3K…? 'Remind yourself, it's just a show--you really should relax,' or something like that."

Blair blinked.

"Uh, Jim?"

"Yeah?" 

Jim didn't peel his gaze from the TV, watching with amused interest as a blonde woman with improbably large breasts leapt into the air, spun and landed a slow-motion roundhouse kick to a tentacled alien's head. 

"Since when do you watch MST3K?"

"I used to watch it sometimes. When it was on and I was around, which wasn't really that often." Jim took a swig of his warming beer to find the bottle nearly empty. Downing the rest of the contents in one shot, he made his way to the kitchen for another.

" 'nother beer, Sandburg?"

"No, man, I don't want another beer--I wanna know why you've been holding out on me!" 

Jim shrugged and closed the fridge, beer in hand. "Suit yourself." He popped the cap and headed back to the couch. "More for me."

Blair was sitting up now, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. "C'mon, Jim! I've known you for months now and never once have you displayed even the slightest hint of geekiness. Next thing I know, you're gonna tell me you watch Wormhole Extreme." Blair shook his head sadly. "That anthropology guy on there's a joke, Jim. He's a freaking accident waiting to happen! Anyone with a brain would see how much trouble the guy attracts and they'd lock him in that mountain for his own good. God, people even write stories about it! And that Colonel? Sheesh! He's never get away with the stunts he pulls in the real military. You should know that."

Jim had reclaimed his sofa while Blair ranted, trying to keep his focus on the movie. He hated how difficult it was for him to tune Sandburg out. It was irritating how that worked. The kids voice was either silk or sandpaper. And right now, it was leaning towards the latter.

"Look, Sandburg. I haven't been holding out on you, or hiding anything from you or whatever. I'm just this guy, you know? Not super-cop, not G. I. Joe, not a freaking super hero or a stereotype. If you want to call me a geek or a nerd or something, if labeling me makes your inner scientist happy, go right ahead. But I'm not going to sit here and let you analyze me to death." 

"I hear you, Jim, but. . ."

"What part of, 'I'm not gonna let you analyze me,' did you miss, Sandburg?" Jim spared a glance at his partner while a loud, fiery space battle raged on the screen, ships diving and banking. His attention was drawn back to the screen as two huge battle cruisers approached one another in a classic pugilistic standoff. Head to head, the gigantic ships slowed to a stop, facing one another in preparation for a game of space-chicken. 

Blair was also watching the screen, looking somewhat miffed, but saying nothing.

"God, I hate that," Jim muttered.

"Hate what?" Blair glanced at Jim and back to the screen where the ships were powering up their huge laser cannons.

"I hate it when two ships approach each other using the same directional plane of orientation. Up for one is up for the other. In an infinite universe, they just happen to meet face to face…face up." He shook his head. "It never used to bother me in Star Trek. But now. . . " Jim sighed again. "I guess I'm getting old."

Suppressing a grin, Blair finished the last of his beer. "I think I interfered with your suspension of disbelief, Big Guy."

"Damned right you did, Sandburg! Now I'm noticing every little. . . Oh, god! Did you see that?"

"What?"

"That! That, right there!"

"That ship?"

"Yeah, that one--it's a leftover from the original Battlestar Galactica, I know it is!"

"So?"

"So? SO!? That's just *wrong*! It doesn't even fit in with the other models! The other ships are kind of like the Yamato in _Starblazers_ \--they look like actual naval battleships. That thing looks like a flying dumpster with guns on it."

"Uh, Jim?"

"Yeah?" Jim turned to look at Blair, who grinned evilly. 

"It's just a show." The grin broadened. "You really should relax."

The pillow caught Blair completely unprepared.

\--end--


End file.
